The Unwilling Savior or Unwilling to Be Saved?
by Heart of Noir
Summary: After failing to kill Dumbledore last year, Draco was kept out of the Dark Lord's hands, but only barely. Now that he has been outcast from the darker side of the Wizarding World, he must rely on the people that have no reason to trust or help him. Dramione. Disclaimer; I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise... Though, that's not for lack of wishing. Rated M
1. The Meeting

Late. That's what she was going to be if she didn't move faster. As she quickened her pace, her hurried footsteps echoed off the empty castle walls. Hermione Granger was always punctual and prepared, if she could help it; however, after the owl she had received that evening, she feared there wouldn't be enough time to get to her beloved Professor's office in time. In time for what, though, remained a mystery. The owl that had been delivered only stated, "Ms. Granger, it is most urgent that you be present in my office at 8:00 this evening. Regards, Minerva." Hermione had received the owl at 7:30 that evening during dinner with her parents. Since then her mind had been racing with the onslaught of thoughts the message provoked, most of them negative. 'What if Harry and Ron were in trouble; Was Professor McGonagall ill; Had the Order safe house been discovered by Voldemort; Was the Order in danger?' All of these thoughts raced through her mind, and she prayed nothing had happened to any of her friends or family.

Since Voldemort's rise to power and the infiltration of Death Eaters at the Ministry, the wards on Hogwarts had been strengthened and added to, making it impossible to Apparate onto the grounds, arrive via the Floo Network, or use any secret passages; even those Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and she had thought were absolutely unknown by anyone but them. She had been in such a rush to leave her home, she was still in her mundane lounge wear; but McGonagall wouldn't mind, she admired Hermione on her wits and loyalty, not her fashion choices. Hermione looked down at her muggle watch, 7:57, she started to jog down the corridor.

At 8:00 exactly she arrived at Professor McGonagall's closed door, out of breath. As she was raising her hand to knock, she was startled back by the door being jerked open. In its place she found herself staring at greasy, long black-hair, and the back of a rigid black-cloaked figure.

"I cannot stay Minerva, you know this. He is not my responsibility anymore and I will not jeopardize my good standings with The Dark Lord to listen to this whining insolent little boy. I have already sacrificed enough these last few months and will not raise suspicions. Should the worst case scenario arrive, may I suggest a body bind or a muting spell?" He seemed to move his head in the direction of someone else, "And may I remind you before I take my leave that I have put my life on the line these last two months for you. It was not an easy task keeping the Dark Lord preoccupied with information on Potter so that he might just forget your miserable failures. Now if you so much as slip….well I'd hate to see what happens when I can't get to you in time."

Severus Snape pivoted to look into the shocked face of one Hermione Granger. "Well well, Miss Granger, exactly 8:00, tell me do you ever disappoint?" Without looking away from her still shocked expression he said, "Have a good evening, Minerva," and brushed past her, breaking her out of her trance. Hermione quickly whipped out her wand from under her jacket and started firing spells at Snape.

He had killed Dumbledore, surely now Professor McGonagall was under some sort of spell or she would never have let Snape escape. Severus Snape turned around in time to block her first spell. She fired and hexed spell after spell, but all were blocked by the man. Without seeing the spell leave the tip of his wand, Hermione suddenly felt herself freeze.

"That is enough Miss Granger," she heard as Professor McGonagall came into view. "I will explain everything once you get inside the safety of my office, but I can tell you that this man is not our enemy." Hermione saw Snape turn away with a parting smirk, and felt her body relax to its natural state as his billowing cloak disappeared around the corner.

"Come in Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "And please shut the door behind you." Hermione could only stare at the woman, completely perplexed; but she rationalized, after checking for signs of the Imperius Curse and seeing none, that the woman must have her reasons. Hermione followed her Professor into the small office and closed the door behind her. She stepped out of the way to watch Professor McGonagall place a silencing charm on her door.

"What is this about, Professor? Has something happened? What was _he_ doing here?"

"Jesus Christ, Granger. I'd hoped maybe you'd learned to stop suffocating people with your questions." Hermione whipped her head around, knowing the person she would see couldn't possibly match the voice.

"Although it is nice to see that you don't know everything, do you, mudblood?" She realized she was woefully wrong when she looked into the sneering face of Draco Malfoy.


	2. The Explanation

Hermione felt like she was falling. The type of falling you feel when you're in a nightmare; like the floor drops out from underneath your feet and no matter how much you flail and reach there is nothing for you to catch yourself on. How was he here? Why? He had helped _murder_ Dumbledore. He was unkind, poisonous, and evil! She simply couldn't fathom an explanation as to _why_ he was back here.

"What? Nothing to say to me, Granger? No 'welcome home?'"

She snapped out of her thoughts and openly stared at the little prick. Same sneering face, same bright blue eyes, same pale skin and white blonde hair; but there were, undoubtedly, some changes in the boy. He had dark circles under his bright blue eyes, and, his hair, instead of the perfectly coiffed style he usually went for, was unruly and dirty. Draco ran a hand through his matted locks, as if he was self-conscious; but that must have been her imagination, Draco Malfoy was anything but concerned for what others thought of him. Hermione kept inspecting Malfoy, noticing his normally sharp cheekbones were painfully prominent, he had lost weight in these last few months.

"You know, Granger, I'm not sure if those filthy muggles you call parents taught you any manners, but I was taught that staring is rude. Or maybe that mud in your blood is clogging your brain."

Hermione felt a surge of anger inside of her. "Well if dirty blood is all my parents are guilty for then I'm a right side better than you. Your prestigious family raised you to _murder_ innocent people." Draco flinched and McGonagall was nearly out of patience.

"Mister Malfoy that is enough. And Miss Granger I will ask you to control your temper." Minerva said firmly. "We have a short amount of time to work within and I will **not** waste any of it with this juvenile banter."

Hermione felt guilty, "I apologize professor, it won't happen again."

Minerva looked at her, "It's alright dear but we mustn't waste time…. It's quite precious these days." The end of that sentence was barely whispered by McGonagall and Hermione was unsure if she had been meant to hear it.

Minerva, taking a deep breath, continued to speak. "The reason I have called you here, Ms. Granger, is because Mr. Malfoy is now under the protection of the Order. We must find a place for him to hide. Somewhere the Dark Lord will never search."

Hermione didn't know what she had expected to hear tonight, but it was most definitely not that. "But Professor, he's a Death Eater. He serves You Know Who! Why should we help him? He's nothing but a—"

McGonagall interjected, "Miss Granger! I know what he has done, but after he was unable to… harm Professor Dumbledore he has been at risk of death from He Who Must Not Be Named. It is only by Professor Snape's doing that the boy has survived this long."

Hermione shot a glare at Malfoy. "Professor, we can't trust him! And even if he had come here of his own volition how do we not know he isn't being used as a spy. What if he's trying to redeem himself? And Snape," She practically spat the name, " _He_ was the one who _KILLED_ Professor Dumbledore! Why did you even let him into the castle, he can't be trusted. For what we know he's letting Death Eaters into the school as we speak."

McGonagall sighed and motioned for Hermione to sit. She hesitated, but ultimately took a seat; McGonagall spoke softly. "Miss Granger, after Dumbledore died I was in charge of clearing out his personal belongings. One of the largest things he had, was a collection of his own memories. Within these memories I found a flask with my name on it. After viewing the contents in the pensive, I learned that Severus has been working for the Order. He was a spy, I suppose would be the best way to label it. Severus has been risking his life for years to protect Potter from the Dark Lord. I was also able to see that he and Snape had planned his death…Miss Granger, Albus was dying; he had been cursed by a ring enchanted with Dark magic, and the poison couldn't be contained. Going by his memories, he wouldn't have lived through the summer… Hermione, Albus Dumbledore asked Professor Snape to kill him so Mr. Malfoy's soul might be saved. All of this was hidden from the Order, no one could have known."

"But why does no one know now, Professor? Shouldn't we tell the Order? All of them are vying to kill Professor Snape, wouldn't it be better if they knew? He could be harmed… killed even."

Minerva looked tired. Sighing she said, "No. Severus has asked that we keep his true loyalties a secret. If the Dark Lord were to see that the Order was uninterested in avenging Dumbledore's death with Severus, He would become suspicious. Not to mention that if the Dark Lord is a very skilled Leglimens. Should one of the Order be captured, Severus would be in a perilous situation. All we can do is hope he has luck enough to keep out of reach from both sides."


	3. Setting the Guidelines

"Merlin, who cares what he does!" Draco spat. "He's a blood-traitor, and for what? All this for a dead man and—"

"Quiet, Mr. Malfoy!" Snapped Minerva. "I will not tolerate that type of foul-mouthed speaking. I would think you would be more grateful to the man who has protected your life during these last few months." Draco's mouth closed and Minerva turned back to the young witch in front of her.

"Now Miss Granger. I assume you have questions, but they will have to wait for a better time."

"But Professor—" The brown-haired witch began.

"I **am** sorry Miss Granger, but we must get Mister Malfoy into hiding as quickly as possible. Now, I have brought you here because you are not an obvious choice for safeguarding, which this young boy is in dire need of. After careful deliberation we have come to the conclusion that should You Know Who find out Draco Malfoy is now under the protection of the Order, He will suspect that he is most likely hidden with one of the older, more experienced Order members. That is why I have brought you here.

You are not an obvious choice for protector, given you and Mister Malfoys… shall we say, conflicted history. And given You Know Who's previous ways, we are able to safely assume that the Dark Lord will look everywhere but the muggle world for Mister Malfoy." Hermione felt dread slowly start to sink her stomach, "So it is with great regret that I must ask you to take on this burden of protection."

"NO!" Screamed Draco, jumping out of his chair. "You expect me to live with her? This filthy mudblood? In the muggle world!? Never! I would rather take my chances alone than stoop so low. We agreed I would live with basic accommodations; but this is torture! I refuse to degrade myself to such disgusting conditions!" Draco's arms were waving about erratically and he pulled out his wand, using it to stab through the air with each sentence. Suddenly the wand was flicked out of his hand and into the waiting palm of Minerva McGonagall.

"Mister Malfoy SIT DOWN!" Minerva bellowed. "You will only live with Miss Granger and her family until the start of the new term, but until then we are unable to accommodate you here at Hogwarts. We need time to set up the proper enchantments for your living quarters, but until that time comes it is too likely that you will be seen by a member of the staff."

Draco glared at Hermione, "This is your doing! You set this up for me so you could laugh at my disgrace! It's _your_ fault!"

Hermione was furious and leapt up to stand nose-to-nose with the ferret. "You are the last person on this earth I would _ever_ consider helping. If you are egotistical enough to believe such rubbish than you might have taken one too many bludgers to the head during Quiddich!"

"Enough!" Yelled Minerva. "You will both have to coexist until the start of the new term." The witch sent a hard look at the pale-faced boy. "Both of you will have to adapt." Turning to Hermione she said fiercely, "It is of the utmost importance that we keep Mister Malfoy safe, Miss Granger. We need to know what the Dark Lord is plotting and now that Mister Malfoy has exchanged sides, his safety takes precedence over immature quarrels."

Hermione turned to the boy whom she had for so long loathed. With venom in her voice she stated, "I understand, Professor. I will do my best."

Minerva looked in between the two. "Alright then, it is agreed. Miss Granger, the wards we previously placed on your home at the beginning of the summer should be enough to deter any Death Eater or Wizard with ill-will. However, just to be sure Alastor is there as we speak placing extra enchantments around the premises and on the room Mister Malfoy will be residing in."

McGonagall looked sharply at Draco, "You are forbade from leaving the premises unless you are accompanied by a member of the Order, and are strictly prohibited from using magic, for which reason I will be keeping this," She motioned to his wand.

" _You can't take my magic away! You old hag!_ I can't survive without it. What do you expect me to do when I cannot protect myself?" He screamed, the cords in his neck straining with the effort.

Minerva looked at him coolly, "Well, luckily for you, Mister Malfoy, muggles are not known for their dueling abilities; and as I said before, the charms on Miss Granger's home will be more than enough protection. Unless you really plan to face your Master alone and fight off all of His followers while on the run, I suggest you simply accept this is how you will be living for the next few months."

After seeing the man didn't have anything to say after that, the older witch looked at the young woman beside her and continued to explain all the limitations Draco would have; he would not be able to use magic, he could not leave the premises, unless with two or more members of the Order, he was not allowed to send letters or receive anything that hadn't been previously inspected by Alastor Moody or Kingsley Shacklebolt, he was to be supervised at all times, besides the times when he was residing in his room, and he was not to be spoken of to anyone outside of the Order. When the time to return to Hogwarts came a member of the Order would be sent to her house and they would Apparate near school grounds. He would continue residing with her for the entirety of the school year in her Head Girl quarters and, if he so chose, could work on the weekends with Professor McGonagall and _Headmaster_ Snape to continue his education.

Hermione felt little joy in the revelation that she had been selected as Head Girl; unbelieving that Snape could be headmaster. Minerva asked if she understood her responsibilities clearly. Turning to both of them for confirmation. Hermione nodded her head, she had little choice but to agree to the terms and Malfoy simply dipped his head once, seething.

Minerva clasped her hands together, "Well if there is nothing else, I will open the Floo Network so you may return to Miss Granger's residence."

Hermione went first, taking a large handful of the powder and stating her address clearly and slowly so Draco could follow. She wondered what Hell she had gotten herself into as the green flames swallowed her and she was transported into her living room.


	4. Home Sweet Home

Hermione felt her feet touch hard stone and stepped out of the fireplace, quickly brushing herself free of any soot or dust. She heard the whoosh of the Floo and the crackle of green flames. Turning around the witch saw Malfoy step haughtily into the room. He looked about the room with an expression of open distaste. ' _No surprise there_ ,' she thought sourly. Draco smirked, raising one eyebrow snarkily. Hermione huffed, blushing slightly, as she followed his gaze to one of her elementary school photographs. It was one of her least favorite photos because of the memories it evoked; she had been awkward with no friends, made fun of for being a know-it-all, her teeth large and crooked, before her parents' dental work, she had been a very lonely child before Hogwarts. He looked at her, his smirk widening as he saw her spine stiffen, ready for a fight.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it as heavy footsteps made their way towards where the two were at. The pair pivoted toward the open doorway in time to see Alastor Moody stride through it, trailed closely by Hermione's parents.

Hermione took in a breath, her parents didn't deserve what was going to happen next. They were kind, honest people, whom Hermione loved dearly. She was proud to be their daughter and she internally steeled herself to defend them against whatever rubbish Malfoy was going to spew about blood-purity and muggles. Alastor stopped inside the room, his magical eye whizzing to Draco, then Hermione.

"Alright you lot," he said gruffly, "as of this instance the two of you, Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Severus Snape, and I are the only ones who know the full extent of this situation and we will be keeping it that way. Are we understood?"

"Yes, professor." Stated Hermione, nodding her head.

"Mister Malfoy that includes you as well. Do I have your word?" Moody said in a no-nonsense tone. Then again, Hermione had never heard him use any other tone.

"And exactly who would I tell, _sir_?" Draco sneered mockingly. "You said it yourself, there are only a handful of people who know where I am. That I'm even alive."

"Your word, boy!" Moody said. "I will not be leaving here without it."

Time ticked by slowly as Draco and Alastor Moody stared at one another. Draco finally cracked after what seemed an eternity. "Yes, bloody alright!" he fumed.

"Alright then, Miss Granger." He said turning both eyes on her. "I will be informing you on the remainder of the instructions to keep Mister Malfoy and your family safe. I will only say them once so you both best listen. Ready?"

"Y-yes, sir." She said uncertainly.

"Mister Malfoy's room is secured so that only you, your parents, or he may enter. No one else. There are also some very complex spells on it so that **no** magic whatsoever can be used inside the room. There are anti-apparition wards around the property so you may not apparate within 200 yards or a caterwaul will sound. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." She said confidently. "I'll make sure to tell anyone who comes visiting to apparate under the bridge by the park and walk here. That should be far enough away. I'll tell them there's too much muggle activity and they could be seen."

"Smart girl, Granger. Good. You should also be aware that after I leave here, the Floo Network to your house will be shut and warded. There will be no using it unless in a dire emergency. I will give you the password now, so memorize it. The password is 'Phoenix Fire.' All you must do is say it two times and jump in. It will take you to a spot near one of the Order members' house, but it will never take you to the same place twice. If it is activated it will raise an alarm with all of the Order and reinforcements will come." He looked at Draco. "You should know, that all of the doors and fences around this home have been charmed so that you will be burned and electrified, should you try to escape. I will also let you know," he said taking a step closer, "that these spells, if activated, will alert me directly, since I am the one who placed them. I happened to notice a glass cage in one of the closets here. It's meant for a pet of some sort; a ferret would fit snugly in there and be quite a bit less trouble than someone trying to make an escape."

Draco paled a little but managed a sneer, mumbling something about 'ridiculous situations and crazy old wizards.'

"The backyard is available for your leisure, but the fences are warded as is the front area of the house. I will be here two days before the start of term to escort you to Hogwarts, and I expect no foolishness, do you understand, Mister Malfoy?" Moody growled his magical eye looking Draco up and down.

"Yes." The pale-haired boy ground out.

"I understand, Professor." Piped Hermione.

"Good, then. I'll be off." He said. "Evening." He said looking at Hermione's parents, who smiled and wished him safe travels, if not a bit dazedly.

Hermione watched as the wizard was engulfed in green flames and then disappeared, leaving the four of them rather awkwardly in her home.

Her mother was the first to break the silence. "Are you hungry…Draco?" She said haltingly; as if the words were forced out of her. "We were in the midst of having dinner when Hermione was called away. It's still warm." Her mother's manners were impeccable but Hermione could tell that they were the only reason she was offering. Obviously she was aware Draco was the same Malfoy boy who had teased her only daughter mercilessly at school….And she was not happy having him stay in her home.

She saw something flash in Draco's eyes, longing or desperation maybe? Had it really been that long since he had eaten? Hermione saw his face contort into what was probably meant to be a sneer, but was obviously only for show.

"I suppose." He said shortly. "That is if it's not some sort of disgusting muggle concoction."

Hermione tensed. Her father, she could see lightly touched her back. Hermione's mother was not someone to be trifled with. She was what her father called 'feisty.' She had even given Hermione a first edition magical history book after she had learnt of her daughter punching the school bully in the face during her third year; the same bully who was currently standing in their living room. Oh no, this wouldn't end well for him.

"Now you listen here, young man." She started in. "We are not some classless, dim-witted, _muggles_ that are going to passively take your crude and ignorant remarks. We have welcomed you into our home and you will respect us as the authority of this house. If you are arrogant enough to stand there and think that this is how your stay with us will be, you are utterly mistaken. I—"

"Dear, please. I think you may need to calm a bit. Let's discuss this rationally." Hermione's father looked a little afraid of what his wife would do next. He did **not** want her anger turned on him. Surprisingly enough her shoulders seemed to relax minutely and she took a deep breath.

"I will not tolerate that type of degrading language in my home, Mister Malfoy." She said, now calmer and more composed. Draco met her gaze with his own. His lip pulled into a slight sneer.

Her gaze hardened and she continued icily, "Especially when it is directed at myself or my family. If you would like, you may eat in the kitchen with Hermione." She looked at her daughter, her gaze softening as she spoke to her daughter. "You need to finish your meal; it was hardly touched when you left in such a hurry; it's in the oven."

Mrs. Granger looked back at Draco, her gaze steeling. "You have come into my home and while you are here we will provide for you and take care of you. You will be expected to contribute to the family and help around the house." Draco scoffed. "Don't believe because you are in this house you can't be taken out of it. Now I'll be off to bed." And with that parting shot she turned and gracefully moved toward the staircase.

"I believe I'll be going to bed too, sweetheart. It's been quite an exciting day. I'd best be well rested for tomorrow. I have a root canal scheduled at 8:00 sharp." Hermione's father said with a soft smile. He turned his gaze and nodded, "Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy." Then he too disappeared up the stairs.

Draco stood like he was made of stone; he was utterly immobile. No one had ever dared speak to him like that, not even his parents. His eyebrows seemed to be swallowed by his hairline and his eyes were as big as saucers. His mouth was slightly agape and Hermione tried to stifle an inappropriate giggle. It was undeniably funny to see Draco at a loss for words. Hermione shuffled her feet, the sound breaking him out of his trance. His gaze moved to her and he scowled.

"Bloody hell, Granger. Are you sure that mudblood mother of yours doesn't belong in a mental institution? She's bloody insane, that one. There are more normal people at St. Mungo's. Ranting and raving at me. I—I…she—"

"Was within every right to scold you like she did." Hermione said coolly. "And you best clean up your language while you're here. You don't want to get on her bad side. She already dislikes you from what you did to me at school; I highly doubt she will give you any leniency. And as for _that_ word, _mudblood_ , you had better forget of its existence because if either of my parents hear you say it there will be consequences that make you more miserable than you thought you could ever be. I will make sure of that."

Draco laughed bitterly, "I highly doubt that's possible, being more miserable." Hermione rolled her eyes and began walking towards the kitchen. She was tired and hungry. It had been a long day and she wanted to eat her food, soak in a nice long bath, and crawl into bed. "Where are you going, Granger?" Draco said aggressively.

She sighed. "To get my dinner, Malfoy. I don't have time for your dramatics."

"'Dramatics?' I am not dramatic." He said, sounding peeved.

"Childish, then." She said as she walked down the short hallway and into the warm, homey kitchen. Draco had his mouth open readying his retort when he walked into the kitchen. His mouth closed only for his face to scrunch in confusion.

"What is all of this?" He asked looking around. Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise, she had forgotten Malfoy probably didn't know what most of the objects in her home were since he had been pampered all his life with house elves and couldn't be bothered to learn about ' _lesser'_ people like her muggle parents. Hermione felt her eye twitch, this was going to be a long summer of Draco curiously questioning the witch about an object and then insulting its function as soon as he understood what purpose it served. Hermione couldn't believe how unlucky she was; her summer holiday was supposed to be fun and relaxing. Now, however, she was stuck babysitting her nemesis in her home. Merlin, this was going to be awful.


	5. The First Evening

A/N: Wow, okay. Firstly I'd like to say sorry I don't upload consistently. I go to college and work weekends so my schedule is pretty nuts. I'll try to upload as frequently as I can (I'll shoot for once a week or so). Secondly, if you have any comments please let me know or should you have any suggestions for the characters go ahead and send me your feedback. By the way I forgot to put in the description that this is 'rated M' for later content. I don't know when that'll be so keep your eyes peeled for some bowchikawow-wow. I'd also like to say 'hey there' to my two followers; which I'm pretty darn excited about. Thanks!

"Well, Granger?" The pale-haired boy drawled arrogantly. "What are all these…objects?"

Hermione grabbed two oven mitts out of a drawer and moved towards the oven, fuming. "Perhaps if you had spent more time educating yourself on things outside of pureblood status and asinine remarks you might have a clue." She looked pointedly at him. "Or maybe if you hadn't been coddled all of your life you'd at least know what _some_ of these are used for."

Draco looked around, his color rising as he stared hard at each different object. Hermione could tell he was frustrated he wasn't able to make fun of how inferior muggle appliances were because he genuinely had no clue what any of them were. His faced scrunched in confusion as his gaze landed on a very large mixing bowl. It was obvious he had only ever eaten with standard sized serving bowls; he had probably never cooked anything. The concept of why someone would need such a large portion of food was baffling to him. Hermione could tell he was using this thought process because of how his brow creased further, his glance flicking between the large mixing bowl and the regular sized bowls her family used for meals. Hermione smiled to herself as the 'oh-so-mighty' Malfoy scowled. Draco was angry she was laughing at his expense because of how little he knew about his new environment. His color rose as his annoyance level ratcheted up. Hermione let out a snort at seeing him struggle. Whoops. Draco's head snapped up, his eyes seething and opened his mouth to speak.

"Well it's not as if I'd ever need to, Granger. Some families are better than others. As if _**I**_ would ever need to learn any of this. I was born with a purpose in this world and a right to magic; unlike you. Filthy mudbloods like yourself are simply a product of some pathetic accident. It's a joke seeing you with a wand, thinking you're an equal."

"I could say the same for you, _ferret_. Obviously if you had an intended purpose you've somehow managed to muck it up. It's laughable that you think you're so much better than me when everyone in your life seems to have abandoned you at the snap of some dark, sadistic, murderer's fingers! At least I can say that I have people who are loyal to me no matter what." Hermione knew she had gone too far. The guilt hit her instantly as his face closed and a blank mask appeared. ' _Shit, shit, shit_ ,' she thought.

The brown-haired witch took a deep breath as the uncomfortable silence stretched on. Finally she said, "They're used for cooking, Malfoy." He looked up at her his face turning into a frown.

"You don't just use magic?" He said.

Hermione sighed, tamping down her aggravation. "No, Malfoy. Even if my parents could use magic they still wouldn't waste it for simple tasks like making a meal. They aren't like that. They believe that hard work is the only way you'll ever get anything worthwhile in this world. They think if everything is just given to you, you won't learn." And sneaking a glance at the boy now, Hermione was glad her parents had taught her to make her own way. Hermione put on the oven-mitts and pulled open the hatch, feeling the heat rush over her and smelling the delicious aroma of her mothers cooking.

Draco scoffed, coming back to his previous haughty state. "That's ridiculous. It must take ages. You mudbloods are so impractical; it's no doubt the reason for your inferiority. Of course my father would have never allowed mother and me to demean ourselves like that. Making meals is servant work."

Spoilt little git. Hermione felt blood rush to her face. She couldn't believe she had felt guilty. "That's because your family is vile, Malfoy. You treat your _servants_ like nothing. Those house-elves should be able to live freely, make wages for all the hard-work they put in, and _not_ have to cater to you whenever you so much as sneeze. It's barbaric and—"

"Oh sod off, Granger. They're meant to be servants. That's how it has always been and will continue to be. It's ridiculous how you go on about all of this, especially with that Merlin-awful thing you started in school, what was it S.P.E.W.? Families like mine don't—"

"Respect any life you deem lesser than yourself because of some silly notion you have about blood quality." Hermione interrupted, looking him directly in the eye and raising her chin when he narrowed his eyes.

"I suggest _you_ sod off, Malfoy. Your blood purity won't get you anything here, and thinking it does just makes you seem even _more_ blinded by your arrogance; if that's even possible. Now leave me alone or at least shut your mouth so I can eat in peace." Hermione set the two meat pies on the stove top, closing the oven and taking off the mitts. She moved towards the drawer containing silverware, "Excuse me," she said as she tried to reach around the boy she detested so much. Draco stood in her way, feet planted wide. Hermione cleared her throat looking directly at him. "I said, _move_."

He stiffly moved out of the way, his eyes never leaving hers. The witch nearly flinched when she saw the hatred burning within them. He was obviously not going to forget her outburst soon. She opened the drawer and pulled out two forks, composing herself. She would not give Malfoy the satisfaction of making her lose her head; not in her own home.

Hermione stated calmly. "There are glasses in the cupboard behind you. That is, if you'd like anything to drink." She relocated the meat pies from the stove to the counter top; moving around so that she could sit on a stool positioned on the other side of the island.

Draco removed two glasses from the cupboard, even if it was rather stiffly. He opted to reach into the highest shelf where he removed two of Hermione's parents' finest crystal glasses. Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course he did.

Hermione kept watching him beneath her lashes, expecting him to close the cupboard door. Instead, he did something rather unexpected; with the two glasses in his left hand, he reached out his right and touched one of the plastic glasses Hermione's family usually used. His forehead creased in concentration as he tapped it with his index finger; scratching at the surface, the crease between his brows deepening. Curious, Hermione realized. "They're plastic." She said. He jolted, looking back at her, his scowl reappearing.

"And what foul thing is 'plah-lick?' It sounds like a disease." Hermione fought her urge to grin.

"Plastic." She repeated. "It's a synthetic material. It's used very often in all sorts of muggle products."

"Syn-thetic." Malfoy said, seemingly to test the word on his tongue. "What is that?"

"It's a product made by chemical synthesis. Factories," she started out seeing his brow crease again, "Umm, large warehouses that produce things in mass quantities make plastic and other synthetic products with the muggle equivalent of potions."

Draco's brows shot up at this. He seemed to think about it a minute, then resumed a bored expression and carried over the two glasses, placing them by each of the plates. Hermione looked over at Draco, surprised by his easy acceptance of her explanation. She became slightly flustered when he raised one eyebrow arrogantly. She steeled herself.

"What would you like to drink?" she asked. Draco seemed to think on this, taking his time. He was doing it just to annoy her, she was sure of it. Hermione took a breath in through her nose. Repeating to herself mentally, _'He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Stay calm. Calm. Calm. Calm.'_

"Well?" The witch prompted after a few minutes, tapping her foot. She had had a long day and was not in the mood for this. Screw calm.

"A pumpkin juice will do just fine. Unless you have firewhiskey, that is." He smirked at her lazily.

Hermione huffed. "We don't have either of those, Malfoy. We have muggle products; water, milk, orange juice, soda, tea. Any of those sound like something you'd be interested in having?"

He frowned but quickly covered it by that same infuriating smirk. "Before our food gets cold, Malfoy." She said through her teeth. He seemed to snap out of it at that.

"Umm, what was that thing you said before? Uh, sode-ah?"

Hermione went to the refrigerator and pulled out one can of each of the four different types of soda they had. She set them on the counter in front of him and told him to decide. He looked at the bottles of soda like he was deciding on which death sentence would be the easiest to take. The brown-haired witch rolled her eyes again, taking a deep breath in through her nose.

Malfoy finally just reached out and grabbed one, her favorite coincidentally. It was a red drink called 'Tizer.' Hermione took a 'Fanta' for herself and put the other two away. She walked back to the small breakfast nook and took a seat on the stool.

Draco followed suit, picking up his fork, poking at the meat pie. Hermione took her first bite and sighed. Her mother was a great cook. Draco shot her a funny look and finally brought a forkful up to his lips. He sniffed first, looking at it like it was some strange abomination. Apparently he decided it passed inspection; he quickly shoved it in his mouth, chewing slowly then swallowing. The next few bites he took were larger, he chewed quicker, putting more food into his mouth before he had swallowed the previous bite. Hermione nibbled at her food as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, eventually openly staring at him. He looked up at her when he had finished about half of his meal, his fork pausing mid-air.

He swallowed his food, straightening his spine, as though he realized he had been hunched over his food protectively. He retrieved a napkin from the counter, wiping his mouth and collecting himself. Malfoy looked at her, seeing pity in her eyes.

Merlin he hated pity. He would not allow her to feel that for him. "What are you looking at, mudblood? Haven't you ever seen Potty or Weasel eat before? Or do they usually shut you out to avoid all of your incessant commentary." Draco knew he was being an arse when she was no happier at the situation than he was, but he couldn't stand that knowing look in his eyes. He would have to be more careful.

The comment stung but Hermione knew it was, in part, because of his embarrassment at being caught. The witch decided to pick her battles, and ignored him. She looked back at her own food, eating silently. When they were nearly finished, Draco finally broke the silence.

"This fizzy drink is good…"

"Yes, it's my favorite…" The witch didn't know what else to say. More silence ensued.

Draco cleared his throat. "What is a root canal?" He said rolling his shoulders.

Hermione grabbed at the conversation the previous awkwardness was unbearable. "Well my parents are dentists. They attend to people's teeth, since muggles don't have spells to keep them healthy. A root canal is when the pulp and nerve are removed from the tooth by use of a small electrical drill. The pulp and the nerve are what composes the inside of your teeth. The hole is then cleaned and chemically sealed."

Draco looked disgusted, "Why in the name of Merlin's piss would someone want the inside of their teeth taken out?"

"Well it's not as if people _want_ to have it done, Malfoy. It's rather expensive; people only have it done when it's necessary. Usually when they have an infection in the tooth or the tooth is in an advanced state of decay.

Draco's face scrunched. He didn't look any more pleased by learning more about it, in fact he looked rather repulsed. "And your parents do that every day? As a job? Were they forced into it?"

She laughed, "No, no. They love dentistry. It's quite rewarding to see the difference they can make in helping someone have a healthier and more aesthetically pleasing smile."

Draco looked at her. "So is that all they do? They do these… root things?"

Hermione smiled, becoming more animated as she spoke about her parents. "No actually they do a number of different tasks. They clean teeth regularly; muggles usually get them checked and cleaned every 6 months. They also straighten teeth with what we call braces." When seeing Draco's confused expression she explained further. "They're metal brackets or buttons that are glued to your teeth. Then they thread a semi-flexible metal wire through them and they are able to move your teeth slowly so that they align correctly."

Draco looked horrified. "Isn't that painful?"

Hermione shrugged. "It is a little when you first get them on, but after a few months you hardly even notice they're there."

"A few _months_?" He exclaimed. "So you're expected to walk around wearing metal wires in your face for months at a time?"

Hermione stifled a giggle at his outburst. "Some people with particularly bad teeth can have them for years even."

Draco looked aghast. "Did you have them?"

Hermione nodded. Draco seemed to think about that for a second. Finally he flashed a quick smile saying, "Well I guess it would explain how you went from those photographs out there to this."

Hermione was dazzled by his quick smile; he had straight white teeth and the grin made him seem less arrogant, more boyish and fun. When his words registered, however, she flushed angrily. Draco looked at her a smirk growing on his face. "Well, what, Granger. You can't deny you did have some pretty wonky teeth. You should thank me for sending you to Madam Pomfrey. You may have never gotten those brace off if I hadn't."

Hermione's color rose. "I hate you for that. You humiliated me in front of everyone because you were a spiteful arsehole. Why am I even explaining this to you? It's not like you'll take any of it seriously, you'll probably go laugh behind my parents' back when you go to bed tonight."

Draco sobered. "I am interested in what they do. It's all very odd." Hermione was speechless for a moment, surprised at how little Draco was mocking muggle products. He continued "Of course I'd never want to study it. Magic is obviously much more powerful than any muggle product could ever be."

Hermione felt annoyance spark in her chest. "I'll have you know that muggles are _very_ advanced. And truth be told they could probably hold their own in a war against wizards. Muggle innovations have grown exponentially in the last century. Not that you'd have any knowledge of that."

Draco looked at Hermione seriously his eyes filled with memories. "No they wouldn't Hermione. I've seen what it's like when muggles go against wizards. They never win."

Something in Hermione's mind clicked at his statement. He had murdered innocent people for no reason besides the fact that Death Eaters had felt they were inferior. She pushed back from her chair getting in his face, thinking of all the muggles that had probably died screaming in terror because they couldn't see what it was that was attacking them; wondering what those people were doing in their homes; wondering if their family would suffer the same fate or if they already had; wishing the pain would end; wondering what they had done to deserve something so horrible. With each thought Hermione grew more and more enraged. She came toe to toe with him, screaming, "That's because you attacked INNOCENT people, Malfoy! You murdered them without _warning_. You preyed on families and children who weren't prepared for anything like your kind. They probably didn't even know magic existed! And for what? So you could please your Master who couldn't care less if you came back alive? You disgust me! You and your family all did this! Your father deserves to rot in Azkaban for what he did! I read the trial. I read what he confessed to! He—"

Hermione cut off suddenly as a hand wrapped around her throat. Draco's eyes narrowed and he got so close in her face she could feel his breath brush across her and see the silver lining around his eyes. Draco spoke slowly, his voice low and angry. "Don't ever speak about my father. I know what he did." Hermione felt ice run through her veins. She had never considered Draco dangerous until this moment. He had only been an annoyance to be dealt with. "I saw what he did; I had no illusions of who he was before he was sentenced." His hand tightened further on her throat, she grasped at his hand, clawing to pry it away as he continued. "Your idiotic mudblooded, Merlin-forsaken family would never understand the full extent of what it's like to be a _real_ part of the Wizarding world. You know nothing of what it was like for my family. What it was like for us when he was there. Who he was when he came back." Draco's hand left her throat and she gasped in a deep breath. "If you ever speak about my family again I will kill you. You have no right to speak about things you know nothing of. Fuck you and your bloody Daily Prophet."

Draco looked at his empty plate. "Take me to my room. Now, Granger." Hermione jumped into motion, putting the dishes in the sink; she would take care of them in the morning. She quickly moved into the hallway and up the stairs, breathing erratically at the thought of Malfoy behind her. She whirled around when she got to the landing at the top of the stairs, looking at Draco whose face was a mask of utter loathing. She pushed open the guest room door, feeling the tingle of magic up her arm as it accepted her touch. She stepped back quickly and he strode past her, slamming the door without a second glance.

Hermione went to her room which was adjacent to his, she put a locking spell on it once inside, just in case he decided he wasn't done with her. She went into the washroom that was attached to her bedroom. She quickly used the toilet, brushed her teeth and washed her face. She looked into the mirror, noticing the red marks on her neck where his fingers had wrapped around. Thankfully they were fading, she had no clue how she would have been able to explain bruises on her neck to her mother and father.

Hermione quickly shut off the light and moved back into her bedroom, thinking.

She had been surprised he asked so many questions tonight. She had assumed he would be snide and turn up his nose at anything he saw in her home. She still couldn't believe how awful he looked. It was a bit nice to see the Slytherin Prince look so… human. Hermione, however, couldn't bring herself to be overly happy at his disheveled appearance. He had evidently been losing weight from starvation and malnutrition. His skin had pulled painfully tight when he flashed that quick grin. Reflecting on tonight, she realized he was even paler than usual. It was no wonder he had devoured everything she had available; these last few months on the run must have been dreadful. Not to mention whatever he'd endured before he had defected. It must have been pretty bad to make him leave his entire family behind without a second glance. And all the anger he seemed to have bottled up inside of him; Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit of empathy for the white-blonde boy who had barged into her life.

That empathy was followed by fear. She touched her throat as she pulled the covers back on her bed. It was terrifying to think that the boy she had once known as a bully was now _that_ ; a cold hard man; someone who may have killed for fun. She could never imagine living a life like that. Hermione felt shivers crawl up her spine imagining what he had meant when he said 'he had known what his father was.'

As she changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed Hermione thought about what she would do tomorrow. She hoped Malfoy would cool off some during the night, she would make sure to keep her guard up. But as she lay her head down, she couldn't help but to once again remember that quick smile that lit up Draco's face earlier, she much preferred that Malfoy. It was the last thing she thought of as she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	6. Dark Memories

"Fuck!" Draco shouted, kicking at a trunk lying at the foot of the bed. Punching the wall he screamed, uncaring if anyone heard. "AAAaahh!" She was such a bitch! Such a filthy _mudblood_ _bitch_. She thought she knew everything. She couldn't have been farther from the truth; books and that ridiculous school she loved so much couldn't teach her what was really out there. She knew nothing of the real world. Knew nothing of how cruel and hate-filled it could be.

Draco thought of the things he had seen, the things he had done. Shame, disgust, and guilt filled him as screams different from his own filled his mind. The pale-haired boy absently touched his mark, feeling the burn of the dark magic on his left forearm, even under his clothes he felt it. His fingers moving to touch the jagged scar just above the wrist on his right arm; he shivered, remembering how he had gotten it.

It had been after he had failed yet another mission. A raid on a muggle home that was meant to be an initiation for another young Slytherin like himself; Crabbe. He had strode into the home behind his aunt, his father, Fenrir Greyback, and his former best mate. They were going room to room, ripping the family out of their beds. Draco had used a powerful hex to blow the door to the upstairs bedroom off its hinges. He walked into the room, his wand drawn, assessing his surroundings. There had been a small bed in the corner with a smaller figure hiding under the covers. A child. He slashed his wand, pulling the covers off. He could see the small boy, no more than five, clutching a small stuffed animal, tears streaking down his face as his parents screamed below. He had brown hair that was mussed from sleep, pale blue eyes filled with tears, and a smattering of freckles across his nose.

Draco knew what would become of the boy if he took him downstairs; he would be given to Fenrir and his pack. Forced to watch his parents' murder, then killed in the most horrible way. Malfoy kept looking at the boy, seeing something in his eyes that he hadn't seen in any muggle before. Defiance. Yes, the boy was obviously terrified, but he was brave.

He clutched at his stuffed bear, and Draco knew he couldn't let the boy be used like the other children had been. Draco had heard of what Fenrir did to the children they captured on raids. The children were always sorted, any child with pure-blood would be adopted by a loyal pure-blood family. They would be raised in the ranks to become strong followers. Half-blood children were tested, if they came from a strong household or showed traits that would someday make a good follower, they could be adopted as well, this time by followers in lower ranks. However, if the children didn't pass the tests they were killed quickly. They were still half-pure after all. Mudbloods and muggleborns were different. They would be sorted, then used for initiations or entertainment. A Death Eater that had been awarded could do anything they wanted to a child of their choice. Most were tortured with the Cruciatus until the death eater got bored, then they were granted death; albeit a slow one. Some children would be given to Fenrir and his pack as food or entertainment. Muggles, after all, were nothing more than animals. It made bile rise in his throat.

Because of his defiance, this child would be kept as a pet. Beaten and tortured until they broke him. Fenrir would rip him apart slowly, letting the boy go to the brink of death only to be saved by magic so it could be done again. Fenrir and his pack could bite him, but if they did, they most would kill him after his first transformation. Letting him endure the pain of the transformation, first.

This boy was a child, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Draco knew what would be done to him, he would be sorted into the muggle category. The boy's fate made him feel ill. Draco had never considered himself the paternal type, but he supposed he had always enjoyed being around children, even if he hid it well. He felt protective over the boy, he had never been on a raid that included a child. Malfoy heard someone coming up the stairs; and without thinking, did what he convinced himself was an act of kindness.

With a slash of his wand he saw the light fade from the young child's eyes, the green glow from the Killing Curse leaving dots in his vision. He leaned his hand against the wall, bending over and vomiting the contents of his stomach until there was nothing left. His body continued to heave as he was wracked with shudders.

Draco spit onto the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt disgusted with himself. It was like oil had been poured into his blood stream. He felt dirty beneath his skin, like nothing would be able to fully filter out the filth that now saturated his insides. Draco had never killed before, never truly **wanted** to kill; not like the other Death Eaters. He knew what he had done was better than what the boy would have endured at the hands of the others, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling like he was covered in a layer of grime.

"Draco! What have you done!?" His Aunt Bella yelled.

Draco only shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"The Dark Lord will punish you for this!" She hissed. "You were not given orders to kill! The child was to be used as a part of initiation!"

Draco knew what 'part' she spoke of. Crabbe would have used the boy to drive the parents further towards insanity, making them watch as their child was tortured.

Draco shrugged, finding his voice. He told the first lie that popped into his head. "He was crying and annoying me."

"The Dark Lord will not forgive this easily, nephew." She said darkly. "He will make sure you do not defy His orders again." She poked her finger in his face.

He slapped it out the way. "Don't touch me." He said, his voice having fully returned. Bellatrix looked furious, a mad gleam coming into her eyes.

She screamed, her voice slowly tapering to a whisper as she spoke of her master. "You dare touch me like that! You filthy, little halfwit! I should teach you respect for your superiors. _I_ have never failed the Dark Lord. I am one of his most _loyal_ servants."

Draco swallowed hard. Nervously. He knew she was right; the Dark Lord favored Bellatrix more than his family, especially Draco himself. Their leader would not tolerate his disobedience and lack of respect for one of His model servants.

Draco stiffened his spine, "My parents would never allow it."

Bellatrix let out a mad little giggle. "Don't think Cissy and Lucius can save you from the Dark Lord. This will be the second time you have failed Him." She turned and walked away, expecting him to follow her to the fun downstairs.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, striding toward the door.

Draco knew he would be punished for ruining the initiation. His heart was pounding. When the Dark Lord had finally come down from celebrating Dumbledore's death He punished Draco with the Cruciatus Curse until he had gone unconscious from the pain. He didn't wake 'til nearly three days after the event. His mother had been frantic, but his father had simply told him 'not to fail again.' Draco thought that this punishment would most likely be lesser than his last had been. After all, it was only a mudblood.

However, Draco soon found out that repeated failures merited harsher punishments. He vowed never to overestimate himself again.

He stopped touching his scar, moving to undress. He unbuttoned and removed his shirt, tossing it over a chair. He toed off his shoes and socks, moving toward the bed. He finally shucked his trousers and belt, letting them fall to a heap on the floor. Draco pulled back the duvet climbing under the sheets. He barely had time to feel disgusted that he was in a muggle home, _Granger's_ home no less, sleeping in a muggle bed with sheets that were made of cloth, not silk. He hoped that they were at least clean. Ugh. Merlin only knew what muggles categorized as 'clean.' He pulled the sheets and comforter up over him, looking at the pale moonlight shining through the window. Draco let his head fall back unto the pillow, sighing. The long months of running quickly overtook him as he fell into sleep.


	7. A Rude Awakening

Draco awoke to the sound of water. He groaned as he opened his eyes, a ray of light piercing his vision. Blinking a few times, he realized that the sound of water was not coming from rain, as he had originally thought. Rather, it was coming from the sound of a shower. He looked around the room, his gaze landing on a box-like thing with red writing on it. It was placed on the bedside table and read, "6:15."

Draco assumed this was some sort of electric invention muggles used to tell the time. He touched it. It was made of the same material as the cup he had touched last night. What was it, 'palsic?' No. 'Plaslick?' Merlin's pants this was ridiculous. "Plastic." He finally said aloud. He smirked, very proud of himself for remembering something so insignificant. Draco knew he had always been an impressive student; ' _obviously he still was_ ,' he thought to himself arrogantly.

Draco's smirk faded, replaced by a scowl as the memories from last night resurfaced. That idiot, Granger. It was probably her who had woken him up at this ridiculous hour. He decided to lay back down in bed. He was stuck here anyhow. And he was still exhausted after his full night's sleep.

Draco figured he might as well rest. Closing his eyes, he took a long breath in through his nose, pulling up the duvet and shifting into a more comfortable position.

Draco's head hit the pillow, and his eyes closed…

He was sitting up within a minute, angrily putting his hand in front of his face. That Merlin-forsaken sunlight was shining directly into his eyes. He looked at the window, seeing some odd bar-looking slats that were held together by, what was that? Upon closer inspection he realized it was string.

Bloody muggles, putting cheap, ugly, _stupid_ things on their windows. They didn't even keep the sun from coming in!

Draco decided to try and shift the blasted things so they would block the sunlight from shining directly into his face. He tried to wiggle the individual 'bars' to no avail. Finally noticing a rather large, long piece of string attached to the entire bloody contraption. He pulled on it, only to have the damned thing rise, letting in _more_ sunlight. Shit!

Draco yanked them again, attempting to undo what he had previously done, only to have them go further up. So far upwards, in fact, that the entire window was now exposed and the muggle thing was bunched at the top.

"Merlin damn this!" He growled between clenched teeth. " _Stupid_ , _**fucking**_ MUGGLES."

He felt his frustration rise, knowing there was no way he could sleep with all that sunlight. He pulled on the string again, wanting to rip the irritating thing from the wall. To his great surprise all the slats fell back down.

"Huh." He said, looking at it confusedly. Draco kept staring at the device, still looking for a way to shut out the sunlight. Upon further inspection, Malfoy saw some sort of short tube hanging from it. It looked like more plastic. He grabbed it, pulling with mild force. It didn't move.

"Okay. Obviously not the same." He muttered under his breath. Draco looked at the plastic tubing once more, twisting it this time. "Thank fuck." He praised as the blinds finally closed, leaving him in the dim room.

Draco lay back down, working himself under the covers. The young Malfoy closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. He hadn't gotten much sleep these past few months, and he planned on becoming well rested before he even attempted to leave the room. Now if only Granger could stop her damn humming.

Wait.

One eye cracked open. No, he hadn't been imagining it. He heard a distinctly feminine voice coming from somewhere else.

He listened harder, his brow furrowing in concentration. Great. It seemed that he and Granger's loo shared a wall. He glared at it, willing a silencing charm to be cast in that direction. It turned out his life wanted to further his misery by adding irony as the humming turned into full blown singing of some stupid song Draco had never heard before.

 _Probably some stupid, mudblood, muggle trash_. He thought grumpily.

He twisted, bringing the pillow up around his ears. He could still hear her ridiculous off-key singing. There was no way he was going to sleep like this.

The shower turned off. _Thank fucking Merlin for small favors._

Draco relaxed, trying to get more comfortable. He was dozing peacefully back into sleep when a loud whirring sound began.

He jumped, once again wide awake and glaring at the wall. "Are you shitting me? This must be a bloody joke."

Draco waited for the sound to stop, but it kept droning on and on, and the singing began once more, this time to a different song.

After a few minutes Draco had heard enough. He flung the sheets off of himself, jumping up and striding to the adjacent wall. Pounding on it he yelled, "Oi, Granger! D'you think you could possibly shut that loud gob of yours? That is if your teeth will allow it to bloody close. Some of us are trying to actually sleep."

He heard a gasp through the wall as the whirring shut off. "Mister Malfoy!" He heard in a very un-Hermione-Granger-like voice.

 _Shit_.


	8. Good Morning

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Draco knew he was in a pile of it as he heard the door to the other room slam open and closed and heard the footsteps turn towards him. The door flew open and Draco took an alarmed breath in as one **very** pissed Mrs. Granger stormed through the doorway. Draco only had a moment to register he was almost naked, save his boxer-briefs, before the screaming started.

"Just who do you think you are, Mr. Malfoy?! You have the audacity to speak to me like that? To the person who has given you refugeno less!?"

Draco knew she was right, but his pride wouldn't allow for a muggle to scream at him. He felt color start to creep up his neck. "Well for Merlin's sake all I could damn-well hear was whatever that awful whirring was. It's so damn loud I'm surprised you heard me at all!" He shouted back.

"You ungrateful cretin! I allow you into my home— "

Mrs. Granger cut off as she and Draco heard footsteps pounding up the stairs.

"Dear God, what is going on in here?" He heard Mr. Granger ask loudly, alarmed from hearing his wife's screams from downstairs.

"This ignorant, ungrateful, spoilt, _muppet_ had the nerve to insult who he believed to be our daughter for disrupting his sleep. Little did he know, it was _me_ trying to dry my hair!"

"Why I never—" Mr. Granger began, affronted.

"I think mum's given him enough grief, dad." Said a voice from behind the two Granger parents.

Draco looked over to where Hermione, still in her pajamas, stood in the doorway of her room. It was obvious she had been woken up by the shouting as she was standing in the doorway with sleepy eyes in her pajamas. And sweet Merlin if they were not the sexiest pajamas he had ever seen. They were pink silk, with little red roses patterning across them. The top was a miniscule tank top with little straps. The bottoms were small sleep shorts made of the same silk that showed off her long, toned legs. Her hair was wild in a just shagged fashion. _When did it stop being frizzy?_ He wondered idly.

 _Huh, Granger. Who knew she actually had a body under all those frumpy school clothes?_ He thought. Draco caught himself staring and gave himself a mental shake.

 _Shit, I should not be thinking about bloody_ Granger _like this._ He was brought back from his inner thoughts by an indignant noise coming from Mrs. Granger. He glanced over to her and saw her flushing a very bright red and following his gaze to her daughter. Draco's hackles instantly rose once again, and he said the first thing that popped to mind. "Bloody great now it's a family affair! My God, Granger," Draco sneered, "I always just assumed you didn't brush your rat's nest, now I see that it _actually can_ get worse than what it is at school."

 _Fuck._ He thought. _I'm such an arsehole. But at least now no one will think I'm ogling the mudblood._ In all honesty, Draco could admit that he'd noticed her after her grand entrance at the Yule Ball. He'd acted quite petulant all night, jealous that Krum's date had looked far better than his. Pansy had always worn too much makeup and enough perfume to choke him. She was always batting her lashes at him in—what he assumed she believed to be—a seductive manner, but it just made her seem like she had something in her eyes. Granger, however, had pulled off an elegant look with just enough makeup to highlight her natural features without looking like a completely different person. Her dress had been sophisticated, showing her shoulders and hinting at her breasts. Pansy had ended up looking like a girl pretending to be a woman. Her dress had had an enormous slit up the side and a plunging neckline. She had worn far too many jewels to be considered classy and had fallen over into the obnoxiously ostentatious category. He couldn't believe the silly know-it-all had looked better than his pureblooded date. Draco was again drawn from his musings at hearing a sharp indrawn breath.

Hermione looked like she had been slapped. She recovered a moment later, and Draco could see her eyes narrow and light with fire. "You know what, Malfoy?" Hermione gritted through her teeth. "Maybe if you weren't such a knob to everyone around you, you might actually thank me. But silly me, I forgot you were a pureblooded prick. You know what?" She said, "You can deal with this yourself. You got yourself into this situation by being an utter arse and you can sure as hell get yourself out of it."

With that, Hermione turned on her heel and walked back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Draco couldn't help himself as he checked the way the little silk shorts hugged her rear. _Definitely hiding under those stupid school robes._ He thought

His spine stiffed at the sound of Mr. Granger's tight voice.

"Alright, Draco, enough is enough. You'll be doing some work for us today. Hopefully it'll teach you a lesson. So, get dressed and meet me in the kitchen in 20 minutes. We will be having breakfast and giving you and Hermione a list of chores for the day before we go to work."

"I'll finish getting ready and meet you there." Mrs. Granger huffed, turning on her heel and moving back into the bathroom.

Draco stood there stunned. _Chores? What the fuck am I? A house elf?_ He looked up at the ceiling and sighed as that annoying whirring began again. _Fantastic._


	9. A Better Understanding

Draco went back into his room and looked around. It was dim from closing the window and he didn't see any torches on the wall.

 _Damn muggles. Can't even light a room. How do they see at night when the sun isn't out?_

He fumbled around in the dim room picking up his clothes from the night before. _What the fuck am I supposed to do without magic? Re-wear my dirty clothes? God muggles are filthy._ He thought.

When Severus had taken him on the run he had made sure Draco had enough clothes and comfort items packed in a small bag with an extension charm. However, as the harsh months wore on, some had to be thrown out after getting torn and dirtied beyond magical repair. The last place Severus had taken Draco was an abandoned house in the country. Apparently, the owners had fled Britain a few months prior to escape Voldemort. Draco had stayed there for just over a month when a nearby neighbor had tipped off the Death Eaters. Draco had lit a fire to comfort himself one night when his nightmares kept him awake. In Malfoy Manor there had always been roaring fires no matter what time of year. It was a stupid mistake, one that nearly cost him his life. The neighbor had seen the smoke rising from the chimney, and knowing the owners were gone, notified the Ministry of possible 'illegal activity.' Of course, the Dark Lord had taken over the Ministry and, in no time, Death Eaters were sending word back to their Lord. Luckily, Narcissa was walking past the parlor the Death Eaters were in when they received news. Knowing her son was hidden in the area, she had rushed to Severus, who apparated to the cottage and escaped with Draco. Narrowly avoiding the plethora of Death Eaters who arrived only seconds after. Unfortunately, Draco was unable to grab anything but his wand. He had to leave everything he owned behind in his haste.

He grudgingly pulled on his clothes, stiff and smelly with dried sweat and dirt. _This is humiliating. No Malfoy would dare be seen like this._ He thought. He wouldn't ask Granger for new clothes. He had far too much pride to ask any favors. He resigned himself to wearing his dirty, wrinkled outfit and made a mental note to give either Moody or Kingsley his measurements the next time they visited, so they could go to Madam Malkin's and buy him some quality robes. _Ugh, they'll probably get me some cheap garb._ He'd have to give them a specific list, there was no way he would be seen in anything but the best…even if he was technically on the run.

He turned to leave the room and banged his knee on the trunk at the end of his bed. "Dammit!" He shouted, clutching his aching leg. "Why the fuck are there no _fucking_ wall scones? Merlin-damned muggles with no light!" He said angrily.

Suddenly, a light flicked on overhead. Draco squinted, looking up. He turned his head to the door, hearing a throat clear.

"Hmm-hmm." Hermione cleared her throat, a slight smirk played at the edge of her mouth. "Muggles use electricity instead of fire, Malfoy. It's far more economical and safe to do it this way. To turn them on you flip this switch here." She said, demonstrating by flicking it on and off.

As the lights flickered, Draco straightened and put on his haughtiest face. "Whatever, Granger." There wasn't much more he could say. Really, it did make sense. Many buildings in the wizarding world were sooty and had a burnt smell to them. This was easily taken care of by magic, but there was only so much one could do. After prolonged magical fire, the darkened stains on the walls were permanent and there was a lingering odor of burning sulfur in some of the older, less cared for places. He supposed it also eliminated the risk for fires. There were spells in place to keep things from catching fire from the wall scones, but they had to be reapplied often. It was quite annoying. "I don't care about your elex-tridy. Let's get this over with."

Hermione just arched a brow and turned to go downstairs. When her back was to him she finally let a grin overtake her face. It was funny seeing Malfoy hop around in pain. It chipped away the polished, untouchable exterior he always seemed to put out for the world. As she began to head for the stairs her mind began whirring. Malfoy knew even less than she assumed. Things she took for granted, like using light switches, was obviously something he never previously needed to know.

' _Little surprise there.'_ She thought. ' _Considering his parents raised him to be a blood-purist there was very little possibility he had ever been anywhere near the muggle world._ ' She schooled her face into an indifferent mask and looked over her shoulder as she reached the top step.

"If you need the loo you can use the one in there." She flicked her eyes in the direction of the bathroom. "It's the guest one, but my mother uses it in the mornings sometimes to get ready…Obviously, you know that now." She said, letting a hint of a smile play around her mouth. _Idiot_ , she thought.

Draco nodded stiffly and let a sneer play around his mouth. She could tell he wanted to say something snarky, but really what was there to say?

' _Everyone needs to use the toilet. Even the all-mighty Malfoy.'_

"I'll meet you in the kitchen." She said with a slight nod toward him.

He nodded back in reply.

Hermione began walking down the stairs and heard the door to the bathroom latch. She reached the bottom step and headed toward the kitchen down the hallway.

Her mother and father were both there, already preparing breakfast.

"Morning, sweet pea." Her father said as she entered.

"Good morning, Dad." Hermione replied smiling. She glanced over, "Morning, Mum."

Her mother looked up from the fruit she was cutting and smiled, "Morning, dear. Could you set the plates?"

Hermione nodded and retrieved the plates from the cupboard. She moved over to the table, grimacing slightly as she set the fourth place.

Her mother noticed this and huffed. "Ugh, that boy is foul, Hermione dear. I cannot believe you've put up with him the last 6 years of school. If I'd met him before your third year I'd have probably thrown a party when you hit him. The letters you sent home about him are nowhere close to the real thing." She sighed agitatedly.

Hermione chuckled. "Yes, he's quite a handful. I can't believe McGonagall asked _me_ to take over protecting him." She shook her head in disbelief. "Merlin knows what that woman was thinking."

"Chin up, sweetheart," her Father piped in. "It's not forever. Besides, maybe living here with us will allow him to see the error of his ways."

Jane Granger shook her head, "Always the optimist, dear."

John Granger smiled in response. "I know he's acting like a bit of an arse, but we have to remember he's only Hermione's age, still a child." He gently chided.

Hermione rolled her eyes—if her parents knew half the things she, Harry, and Ron got up to at Hogwarts they wouldn't call her a child. Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger missed this action as John continued.

"We shouldn't be too hard on him, dear. I know he's hurt our Mia, but obviously his life hasn't turned out as he expected. We can't lay all the blame at his feet, some of it has to be the parenting."

Jane quietly sighed. "I suppose so, dear. From what I remember, we met his father briefly in the bookstore your second year. Such a cold man." Jane pondered what the boys home-life had been previous to this. "If his mother was anything similar—I guess I could see how it would shape him. Parents with that level of detachment and an only child to boot..." Jane trailed off, getting lost in her thoughts. As she considered the boy upstairs more she began to feel something akin to pity building inside her.

' _The boy was a terror—that was certain—but he was alone. He had no family, no friends, and no contact with the world he had grown up in. Not to mention he had been forced into living in an environment he was raised to view as inferior, with none of the lavish things he was accustomed to. The way her daughter told it, most of the wizarding upper class owned elf-slaves to do everything for them. She remembered Hermione writing home during her third year, absolutely outraged at the mistreatment of the creatures. Especially with how lazy many of these 'pureblood' families seemed to be because of it. Hermione may have been spoiled growing up as an only child, but they had always made sure she had a good work ethic and knew it was important to be kind and gracious to everyone. Hmm…'_ She thought, _'Maybe the boy just needed some kindness.'_ With this thought in mind she gave a mental sigh and an idea began to form in her mind.

Hermione may have inherited her fiery temper from her mother, but that was not to say Jane Granger was a completely emotion-driven person. She had also passed on her analytical mind and penchant for advocating for those who couldn't do it for themselves. Yes, Jane Granger was a compassionate person, and once she set her mind to something she could be very driven.

John Granger saw a light begin to grow in his wife's eyes and shook his head. They had been married long enough for him to know where her train of thought most likely was. He wiped his hands, done with preparing breakfast.

Hermione frowned at her father as he moved the food to the center of the table muttering under his breath, "Poor bastard…doesn't even know."

Her parents were odd sometimes.

…

Draco let himself into the door Granger had indicated, locking the door behind him. He looked around, noting the bathroom was a decent size, but nothing compared to what he was used to. His lip curled as he saw different muggle instruments around the sink.

"Can't believe they don't have their own ensuites." He muttered to himself bitterly. He couldn't comprehend that, not only was he living in _Granger's_ muggle home, he had to share his accommodations! At Malfoy Manor every guest suite had its own ensuite. And some of the more lavish guest rooms had their own sitting rooms or parlors. He used the loo, doing his business and then washing his hands. Draco then began rifling through the drawers, picking up random things and staring at them as if they would give him the answers to his problems. In a cabinet set in the wall he found towels, unopened toothbrushes and toothpaste—along with an assortment of other odd muggle things. He grabbed a small washcloth and ripped open the toothbrush and paste. He turned the taps on the sink and brushed his teeth vigorously. When he was done he wetted the towel and scrubbed at his face and any skin that could be seen until it was pink.

What he really wanted was a shower, but there was no way he was going to take one if it meant he just had to get back in the same disgusting clothes again. Draco re-wetted the cloth, noticing the grime that was swirling down the drain. He grimaced at how low he had sunk. He looked at himself in the mirror and decided to try and wash his hair in the sink. It was dirty and matted in some places. After his blunder, he had been on the run for around two weeks, moving from place to place every two days until Snape finally took him to Hogwarts. The places he had stayed in were little more than shacks, no running water or nice amenities to speak of.

Draco stuck his head as far under the faucet as he could, wetting his mane of hair and scrubbing with his fingers. After a few minutes he sighed and took his head out from under the faucet. He grabbed another towel from the cabinet and scrubbed his hair into a semi-dry state with it. He wished he had a comb to get some of the tangles out, but there was no way he was using the older Granger's things. ' _The woman was mental.'_

Draco looked at himself once more in the mirror and pinched the now clean bridge of his nose. He looked better than he did before, but still looked like shite. His hair was more of a white-blonde now, but still had matted clumps and tangles throughout it. Now without all the dirt on his face, you could see how exhausted he was. There were purple bags, nearly black under his eyes and his face looked sallow and drawn. He had a slight five o'clock shadow beginning, but it was patchy. All in all, Draco looked as bad as he felt.

He tried to straighten his clothes, but they were beyond his abilities. He rolled his neck, hearing the cracking of his spine.

Draco stared up at the ceiling, willing the war to be over and him to be back at the Manor without an insane psychopath living in the east wing. It didn't happen.

His stomach rumbled. He supposed it was time to go play muggle downstairs with Princess Mudblood herself. Draco straightened his shoulders and tried to muster as much pride as he could. He settled an impassive mask on his face and left the bathroom. He descended the stairs and followed the path he had the night before. When he entered the kitchen, everyone froze for a second looking at him.

"Good morning." Said Mr. Granger awkwardly, his hand beginning to unroll a newspaper.

"Yes, good morning, Draco. I hope you're ready for breakfast." Said Mrs. Granger giving him a slight smile.

Draco gave the woman a calculated look, his eyes narrowing slightly. This was the same woman who had just screamed bloody murder upstairs at him not 20 minutes ago. He looked at her, wondering what had changed during that time. Then he caught it. It was a slight gleam in her eye. The same gleam his mother sometimes got. He felt a hint of fear trickle down his spine. Usually when his mother had that look in her eye, she was planning something, and no one ever saw it coming until it was too late. His mother could be a very persistent and manipulative woman if she thought the cause worthy. Somehow, he just knew Granger's mother was the same.

' _Yes_ ,' he thought. He was in trouble indeed.


End file.
